


A Trail to Old Friends

by madelegg



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood and Injury, Cold Weather, Hypothermia, M/M, Major Character Injury, Rescue, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22087909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madelegg/pseuds/madelegg
Summary: In the midst of the Five Years War, Dimitri and the Lions have control of Garreg Mach, but that doesn't stop Dimitri from prowling the grounds outside the monastery. On one particular walk, shin-deep in snow, he finds a trail of blood and follows it.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Claude von Riegan, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 17
Kudos: 226





	A Trail to Old Friends

Dimitri’s boots crunched through the shin-deep snow, pushing through the powder like he didn’t even notice it. His heavy cloak dragged behind him, smoothing out his deep footprints, as he followed a trail of blood. It had started a ways away, much closer to the monastery. Splatters of red had landed sporadically across the main road to Garreg Mach and into the forest, hitting the trees along with the snow. It hadn’t been accompanied by any footprints at first—whatever had been bleeding was in the air.

It would have been a smarter move, certainly, to return to the monastery, notify the professor, fortify the outer wall security and flying guard, and sent out a scouting team to investigate. But by the time all that was done, whatever was bleeding would be dead or escaped, depending on if they were friend or foe, and he’d get a talking to if someone found out he was walking around alone outside the monastery walls, so he figured he’d take care of this on his own. His allies simply moved too slowly.

It was nearly a mile of walking before Dimitri finally found the creature leaving the trail: a wyvern with an underbelly full of arrows, bleeding profusely, barely breathing. It had riding gear on—a saddle and saddlebags left untouched, but no rider in sight. Perhaps the rider had gone off to get help and succumbed to the cold or to starvation. It didn’t really matter. There was no way the rider’s wyvern would survive another night. Upon hearing Dimitri’s crunching footsteps, it managed to open its bleary eyes, but lacked the energy to even lift its head.

Dimitri stepped around it and saw bloody boot prints leading away from the beast.  _ Must be the rider, _ he thought, and followed them.

Judging by the amount of blood and the way one footprint dragged, Dimitri assumed the rider was injured as well, and rather badly. Dimitri was concerned by how many people were out here, how many Empire soldiers were having battles just a stone’s throw from the monastery. If the rider was still alive when he found him, Dimitri would have a lot of questions.

Dimitri didn’t have to walk far.

The rider had fallen in a heap against a tree, dead or unconscious, the source of the blood clearly visible. He had his leg sticking out in the snow, two arrows protruding from his thigh. His face was hidden by a cloak he’d pulled over his upper body, perhaps to keep warm. As Dimitri moved closer, he saw the man was not dead. He was shivering violently. Dimitri drew his lance as a precaution. 

He stepped closer, slowly, but got no reaction from the rider. Reaching out with the tip of his lance, he went to remove his cloak to see his face, and in a flash of movement, the blade was smacked away with the sharp steel of a dagger, but despite the initial shock of the surprise parry, the strike itself was weak.

Still, Dimitri jumped back a step and gripped his lance with both hands, shifting into a fighting stance.

“Stand down!” he said.

They both recognized each other at the same time. 

“Claude?”

“D-Dimitri?” Claude’s voice was hoarse, unnaturally low, his face paling, but he still had that trademark smile. He lowered his dagger. “Guess I sh-should’ve expe-pe-pected to see you here.”

Dimitri kept his lance up. “What are you doing here? Who shot you down?”

“W-w-was it not you?” Claude asked, one corner of his mouth tilting a little higher.

“You lie here on your deathbed and still find the breath to joke.”

“I’d rather use… m-m-my last words to joke than to cr-cr-cry.”

Dimitri lowered his lance slowly. Claude dropped his dagger and slouched back against the tree, his half-lidded eyes drooping lower. He was no threat. Stepping closer, Dimitri crouched down beside him and reached out. He worked his fingers up against Claude’s neck and pressed hard, testing his pulse. Despite the pressure, Dimitri’s rough fingers, Claude did not react. 

His pulse was weak.

“You are freezing to death as well as bleeding,” Dimitri said plainly.

Claude’s eyes were closing. He didn’t respond. Dimitri patted his cheek. His eyes opened slightly.

“Claude, wake up. Who shot you down?”

Claude smiled, cheek twitching a bit. “Dunno…”

“Claude!” Dimitri snapped. “You do know! It was imperial soldiers!”

“Wh-why are you ask… asking me,” Claude began, took a shallow breath, and continued, “...if you a-already know.”

“So it was imperial soldiers! How long ago? How long have you been downed?”

Claude was growing quickly exhausted by the questioning. He’d used up most of his energy with his singular strike against Dimitri’s lance blade, and could no longer answer now. His eyes drifted shut. Dimitri cursed; nothing he’d said had been conclusive. 

He couldn’t pick up Claude and move him without knowing the extent of his injuries, and if he didn’t warm him up now then he would die before Dimitri got him back to the monastery anyway. Dimitri pulled his furred cloak off and pulled it around Claude’s shoulders, hooking it together in front, the fur bunching around his neck and in his face. It wouldn’t be enough.

“Claude,” Dimitri said, taking his glove off and placing his warm hand against Claude’s frozen face. “ _ Claude _ . Open your eyes. I need you to cooperate or you will die.”

Claude opened them slightly. He parted his lips just slightly but seemed unable to push the words out.

“Where are you injured? Only your leg?”

Claude’s head twitched in a nod.

“Two arrows?”

Twitch.

“Good. Those will remain in for the time being.”

Dimitri pulled his wool-lined gloves off, already warmed by his own hands, and replaced Claude’s leather gloves with them, curling his fingers in the palm. With any luck, Claude wouldn’t lose any fingers. Then, bare fingers working quickly before the cold decreased his dexterity, he began to strip pieces of his armor off, dropping them into the snow in a pile. Claude watched through his eyelashes. His shivering was slowing down, and not because he was getting warmer.

When Dimitri had been reduced to his black undershirt, he reached under the cloak wrapped around Claude and fiddled with his his clothes as well. He removed Claude’s scarf at his waist and wrapped it around his mouth and nose instead. Then he unbuckled his decorative pauldron, yanking it out with the cape attached, and tossed it. The metal was cloudy with frost.

From there, it was a matter of unbuttoning his overshirt and yanking it open, revealing his hairy chest. Despite the heat quickly seeping from his fingers, Claude’s chest felt colder. Dimitri gritted his teeth.

He needed to get Claude off the gold, snowy ground, but moving him would prove difficult and painful. Dimitri gave no warning; Claude wasn’t very conscious anyway. 

Dimitri lifted Claude off the ground and slid under him carefully. It took Claude a bit to react, and when he did, he hissed in pain, his shallow breaths quickening. His body remained mostly limp though, especially his injured leg, which dragged in the snow a bit as Dimitri pulled him into his lap and turned him so their chests pressed together. Dimitri adjusted his cloak around Claude’s shoulders so it covered as much of their bodies as possible, trapping Dimitri’s body heat in so Claude would be warmed. 

Claude’s head drooped onto Dimitri’s shoulder and his shivering gradually started again. Dimitri rubbed his back quickly under the cloak, trying to encourage blood flow. Their chests were pressed together, separated by Dimitri’s undershirt, but to share warmth, it was best if there was as little cloth between them as possible. Dimitri shifted his hand, working his undershirt up, and immediately his chest tingled with Claude’s thick hair. He was hairier than Dimitri remembered, back when they were children in school. Such a thought made him huff with slight amusement.

Dimitri listened to the sound of cold breath filtering through Claude’s weak lungs, in and out, his body tense between each one, waiting for them to come to a stop, but they never did. Claude’s shivering continued, his body started to warm ever so slightly.

“Good,” Dimitri murmured. “You are doing well. Keep breathing, Claude.”

Claude didn’t respond for a long minute. Dimitri wasn’t sure if he was awake until he shifted a bit and spoke, weak voice muffled by his scarf.

“I’d hoped t-t-to… r… reunite under b-better circumstances.”

“There will be more opportunities if you choose to live.”

Claude let out a genuine laugh, stunted with exhaustion. “Sure, Di-Dimi-Dimitr… Dima. I ch-choose to live.”

Dimitri squeezed Claude a little tighter. Their chests rose and fell against each other, pushing them apart and back together again, but Dimitri kept Claude from slipping off.

“Good. Then I will make it so.”

“Th… thanks.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my one contribution to Dimiclaude week, and I'm sorry it's all I have! I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless and thank you for reading!


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